


Little Things

by iruhe



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 10:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8485105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iruhe/pseuds/iruhe
Summary: A glimpse into the little moments of Prussia and Germany's lives. Little things that accumulate.Written for Germancest Week 2016 on Tumblr.Russian translation available!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Мелочи жизни](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9944114) by [hew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hew/pseuds/hew)



> Also at ficbook.net/readfic/5259570.

Relations had been tense for a couple of decades between the brothers, but they'd worked things out in the years since reunification; relearned what they'd forgotten and readjusted to each other all over again.

It had not been easy -- Prussia had been downright cruel at times, but Germany's bending over backwards persistence had paid off. On Prussia's part, it was hard to truly hate someone who had been such an integrated part of his life, especially when said someone was doing everything in his power to patch things up, so Prussia relented, and the brothers have laid the past to rest, choosing instead to set their sights on their future.

However, something _else_ was up between Germany and Prussia these days. It was subtle, only there there if you paid attention, but undeniably there.

\- - - - -

Take for instance the conferences.

The dismal state of regional and international affairs of late necessitated an increase in the frequency of meetings between reluctant nations. This was one of them. After hours of fruitless talk, they'd paused for a much-needed break and most of the participants, Prussia included, had immediately upped and escaped the confines of the conference room in relief.

A bespectacled Germany remained seated, thick fingers flying surprisingly nimbly across his keyboard, but every now and then, his eyes would dart towards the door. This went on until until Prussia returned, two cups of coffee in his hands and a bar of chocolate clamped between his teeth. And Germany's eyes wandered no more.

Prussia settled down and sipped his coffee, content to sit quietly beside his brother. He watched Germany reply to his mountain of e-mails in silence, knowing that any attempt at getting his brother to take a break when he was in Work Mode was an exercise in futility, but it got boring quickly, and it wasn't like he could answer Germany's correspondence for him. Not that he wanted to. That inbox count was not for the faint-hearted, not to mention how pretty much everything seemed to be marked High Importance or Follow Up.

So he turned his attention to his treat. Prussia unwrapped his chocolate, the crinkle of the plastic wrapper obnoxious in the silence of the almost empty room. He was about to enjoy the fruits of his labour when Germany, without missing a beat, grabbed his brother's hand in a smooth, practised move and took the first bite of chocolate for himself. Prussia, who normally guarded his food jealously, only put up a half-hearted struggle, ultimately indulgent of his poor overworked little brother.

"Get dark chocolate next time."

"What the hell? Get your own food next time, you ingrate!" Prussia snatched his chocolate back, making a show of chomping off a huge chunk of the confectionary.

Germany's glasses glinted from the glow of his laptop screen, and if you looked closely, there was a small smile on his face.

-

The day wrapped up with not much of a consensus, as was to be expected. Such were the pitfalls of group decision-making amongst opinionated characters who generally had trouble seeing eye to eye. Germany was given a wide berth as they exited the conference hall, but the subsequent dinner and river cruise along the Danube was a breath of fresh air to unwind from the stresses of the day.

A sightseeing boat had been chartered for them, and the atmosphere on board the cosy lower deck was decidedly livelier than before with bellies fed and 'critical issues' pushed to the back of their minds. They'd even wrested the microphone from their local guide for an impromptu karaoke session. ("It's not like we've never seen it before!")

Italy had been the first to clamber over plush seats and coffee tables to seize the mic, which he promptly lost to Denmark. The addition of Spain and Prussia into the fray turned it into a rowdy tussle that was all but ignored by the less excitable members of the group, who were sipping their cocktails from the sidelines wearing identical looks of superiority.

But what was this? Prussia was voluntarily dropping out of the battle for the mic without so much as a peep?

Unnoticed by the gaggle of nations, he had extricated himself from a Spaniard-Dane sandwich, abandoning the gaiety and warmth indoors. Prussia's attention was now on something else. He climbed the steep, narrow stairs that led up to the open air deck and easily spotted Germany leaning against a rail all by himself. The distant city lights shimmered and glowed on the dark water surface.

Prussia stood beside his brother, who had turned to acknowledge him but otherwise said nothing. The cool, late autumn air was sobering and pleasant on overheated akin.

"Knew I'd find you here."

"The racket was giving me a headache."

"Shame. I was gonna wow you lot with my amazing vocals."

Germany released a short bark of laughter. "Don't stop on my account, I'm sure the rest of them are dying to hear it."

"Nah, it's no fun if I don't get to see your tormented face."

"You know, you actually sing decently. Why do you insist on shouting all the time?"

"Because it's so much more fun to torture my audience than to entertain them," Prussia grinned as he squeezed a muscled shoulder. He frowned. "Geez West, any stiffer and you'd belong on a pedestal in a museum! Gotta learn to lighten up, man. C'mon, remove your suit jacket. I'll give you a massage."

"It's easier said than done. All of these troubles are on our doorstep and all they do is bicker amongst themselves and refuse to agree on anything. I feel like it's me versus them these days," Germany said, draping his jacket over his arm and hissing in pleasure as Prussia's strong fingers kneaded out the kinks in his shoulders. "At this rate, we're never going to come to a common ground while our problems fester."

"You should adopt a passive approach next time. Sit back and let them self-destruct. They're not stupid, West. They're pretty much taking advantage of the fact that there's always good ol' Germany to step up to the plate and honestly? I think part of the reason why they're behaving like children is because they enjoy riling you up as much as I do ... ow!"

Germany had elbowed Prussia in the ribs. 

"I don't think letting them self-destruct is a good idea. It'll come back to bite _us_ in the behind."

"It's ass. Just say ass. And it's a ruse. Trust me. It'll be so much more effective than you yelling at air. They call it reverse psychology these days."

Germany snorted. "Maybe I should, if only to see their reactions -- aaah yesss, there," he moaned as Prussia moved up to work on relaxing the tense muscles in his stiff neck.

"Yeah baby, moan for me," Prussia snickered.

"You're incorrigible. I'm confiscating your porn."

"Hah. I don't own any. I watch yours. Our tastes are unsurprisingly similar."

Germany, too comfortable to be annoyed at the confession, whether or not it was the truth, raised an eyebrow. "Good taste then. You're forgiven."

"There's nothing to forgive, asshole. If anything you should be thanking me."

"Surely our relationship has progressed beyond superficial pleasantries."

"It's called showing appreciation. I taught you better than that."

"I'm not sure demanding praise counts," Germany chuckled, "but thank you," he said warmly, gazing deeply into Prussia's eyes as he placed a hand over his brother's, which had gone back to rubbing his shoulders.

The little shit. Prussia cleared his throat, staring stiffly ahead at the city scape. "Quit getting sappy on me."

Oh, but the awkwardness radiating off him was palpable. Germany relished these one-ups he got on his brother. "You asked for it ... your hands are cold again. Where are your gloves?"

"My hands are fine. It's _yours_ that are hot."

Germany ignored him. "Those black leather ones don't make you look 'stupid'. Wear them."

Prussia rolled his eyes. "It's not about looking stupid. I'm fine."

"We should head back inside."

"I said I'm fine."

"Come _on_."

\- - - - -

And then there was the time Hungary bumped into Prussia at a shopping mall. More specifically, at the bed linen department.

"Gilbert!"

"Yo, Liz. 'Sup."

Hungary looked around, surprised to find Prussia wandering up and down shelves of expensive brands all by himself.

"Where's Ludwig?"

"Stuck in a long-winded conference call, why?"

She pointed at the contents of Prussia's basket. "This seems to be more of his domain. I wouldn't have pegged you as the type to get involved in home decor, much less buy anything from a place like this."

Prussia looked down at his basket. "Ah, yeah. We needed some new bed linen for winter and West likes this brand. He can be really finicky about these things. Mattresses and bed linen must be of good quality, we spend a third of our lives sleeping, yadda yadda yadda."

Hungary's eyes sparkled with mirth. "He trusts _you_ to buy his bed linen?"

"What's wrong with me?! Are you saying I have bad taste?!"

"Not bad exactly, just ... not Ludwig." Hungary quickly changed the subject. "These look good. Simple and classy. Mature." She couldn't resist that jibe after all. Ruffling Prussia's feathers was too much fun.

Prussia shot her a dirty look but reluctantly conceded the point. "Yeah, West said something along the lines of 'if nothing else, please just at least make sure they're pure cotton flannel and preferably white'. I dunno who the boy gets it from," he let out a long-suffering sigh.

Hungary laughed. "I'm surprised there aren't any cute animal prints in here. Aren't you getting any for yourself?"

"It's all here."

"Really? Has hell frozen over? Gilbert Beilschmidt is not jumping at the chance to buy something cute?"

"West would have a fit. Didn't you hear his demands?"

"But what's that got to do with you?" Hungary was confused. Surely Germany didn't micromanage to the extent of dictating what his brother was allowed to use?

Then realisation dawned on Prussia's face. "Oh. Oh, yeah. Might've forgotten to mention. I bunk in with West for winter. Mr Worrywart says it's too cold and damp in the basement this time of year."

Hungary blinked. It was too much to take in in one sentence. "Bunk in. As in share a bed."

"Yeah, his is big enough for both of us plus all the dogs, not that they're supposed to be there. You didn't hear it from me."

"That's ..."

Prussia's eyes lit up at something on display next to Hungary. "Hey, I could totally get away with these bunny pillowcases -- whoa, why are you staring at me like that?"

"You two seem close. Very close. _Really_ close," she said pointedly.

"Hah. Jealous?"

"Be serious."

"Eh," Prussia rubbed the back of his head. "We've been through a lot together. It's only natural."

"Yes but ..." 

"The boy gets paranoid. He's somehow convinced himself I'm gonna die if I'm not right as rain 100% of the time, so he tends to fuss," Prussia said almost fondly. "Told him I'm not going anywhere, my awesome indomitable spirit is immortal, but he still worries, what can I do?"

Hungary opened her mouth. Then closed it, unsure if she should pry, but curiosity got the better of her. "Are you two ... together?"

"Strange question, that," Prussia said absently, more interested in reading the material composition tag on on the pillowcases.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't -- oooh, you mean _that_."

Hungary looked expectantly at Prussia.

"No, we're not fucking."

Her fingers itched to smack that grin away.

-

Hungary watched Prussia juggle between fishing cash from his wallet and holding his mobile phone to his ear at the cashier, suddenly finding herself a little envious. It was nice to have someone to share the little details of your life with. This was not a luxury their kind got to enjoy. Sovereignty had to be fiercely protected; friendships and marriages were nothing more than tentative alliances and political unions, prone to change the minute national interests did.

Things were different for Prussia and Germany. They were the same country now. There was no longer any conflict of interest, no need for them to guard against each other. They could simply be, unless Prussia had plans to off his brother and take over, because who knew for how much longer two nations would be tolerated in one house, but Hungary would not dwell on those dark thoughts now, and they seemed happy together.

It would be nice if she had someone like that. There was always Austria, she supposed, but it wasn't quite the same.

The long years of their semi-immortal lives could get lonely sometimes.

-

"Liz. Earth to Liz." Prussia waved in Hungary's face.

"Huh. What?"

"West ordered pizza for dinner. Wanna join us? We gotta go restock on beer though."

Well, these were days of peace. Relative peace. In this part of the world anyway. Hungary would enjoy the friendship it offered it while it lasts.

\- - - - -

Italy came bearing VIP box tickets to the opera one day, courtesy of his boss.

Prussia had immediately proclaimed he had better ways to spend a Saturday night than listen to screaming sopranos -- namely catching up with the video games he hadn't been able to play much of, no thanks to all that overtime he'd put in to help a certain brother out, so thanks but no thanks, cutie pie. Not even invoking the name of Old Fritz had been able to get him to budge, so it was just the four of them -- Italy, Germany, Austria and Hungary.

Germany left for the evening after extracting a promise from Prussia that he would feed himself properly ("No instant anything. No junk food."), knowing his brother had a tendency to neglect caring for himself when it was just him, doubly so when he was absorbed in one of his games.

But over in Milan, the hospitality was impeccable. Dinner was an excellent Michelin starred affair, the conversation had been pleasant without Prussia to antagonise Austria and Hungary, and listening to world-class opera from the Palco Centrale at the La Scala was a feast for the senses you weren't treated to every day.

Germany was enjoying himself.

"Ludwig, are you not enjoying yourself?" Austria asked, handing Germany his orange juice. They'd adjourned to one of the foyers in search of some light refreshment during the intermission.

Germany looked up from his phone and thanked him, the traces of a smile lingering about his lips. "Of course I am. This has been a most pleasant evening, and the performance was stellar. That aria in particular was sung with such emotion I thought I saw you wipe away a tear."

"You've been hanging around Gilbert too much," Austria muttered under his breath. He made a show of clearing his throat. "Yes, thank you. But if that was the case, why have you been engrossed in your phone all evening?"

"No, I haven't."

The phone in question buzzed again and Germany had the decency to look apologetic.

"Have I?" Hopefully Italy didn't think him rude. He truly did appreciate the invitation.

Austria sipped his drink triumphantly.

"It's nothing. Just Gilbert being silly."

Hungary caught sight of the little yellow notification icon. "Wow, do my eyes deceive me, or is Mr Germany of all people actually on Snapchat?"

"It has to be Gilbert's doing," Austria rolled his eyes.

"It is," Germany admitted. "I don't really use it, it's pretty much a Gilbert-exclusive thing. He's the one who set up the account to bombard me with random things and a million selfies."

"Ooh, add me, add me! Ludwig add me!" Italy piped up.

"I think I can do without an endless stream of gelato and pasta photos, Feliciano."

"I take pictures with cute girls and animals too!"

"What's your username?" Hungary asked, an evil glint in her eyes.

"I'm not telling."

"Knowing Gilbert, it has to be something embarrassing," Austria said.

"Like hunkabeefcake or something. I can search for it with your mobile number, you know?" Hungary grinned.

"Don't bother, I've disabled that feature."

"You're no fun."

"So I've been told."

"Ludwig, Ludwig, add me!"

"The second half is starting," Germany deflected.

They filed back to their box amidst noises of disappointment from Hungary and Italy, which Germany staunchly ignored. Then, when he was certain nobody was paying any more attention to him, Germany discreetly looked at his latest message.

It was a short video. Prussia had wrapped up his gaming for the night in favour of clowning around with their little family. A grinning Aster was perched on his head like a fur hat, and he had apparently succeeded at teaching Berlitz and Blackie that dog mitosis trick. They all looked so pleased with themselves that Germany couldn't help but chuckle. He sent a message:

_Give the boys a treat for me. Say it's from me._

_\-- What about me?_

_I know you've already polished off that cheesecake I bought yesterday. OK, back to the opera. Talk to you later._

\- - - - -

These things happened ad nauseam.

But like the steady drip drop of rainwater, little things accumulated. The bucket would one day overflow. There would come a tipping point.

\- - - - -

There's trouble in paradise.

It was the first of a three-day summit and Germany and Prussia weren't speaking to each other. They weren't even looking at each other, unless one counted stolen glances that flitted guiltily in the opposite direction whenever the other party found out. Unspoken words wedged uncomfortably between them, dying to be set free, but neither seemed to know how to broach the subject, and when they absolutely had to interact, the exchange was painfully courteous.

They were also almost late that morning and looked miserably hungover.

Word from the grapevine was that some of them had gone drinking at the hotel's swanky rooftop bar last night. There had been games and of course, alcohol involved. A lot of alcohol. Predictably, the party animals ended up rather drunk, which explained the green faces and subdued atmosphere.

It wasn't the first time they'd collectively overestimated their alcohol tolerance, but it was the first time Germany had been roped in on the madness, and he was definitely looking as though he regretted it.

The morning passed with minimal fuss; maybe the alcohol wasn't such a bad idea after all, and when they broke for lunch, Prussia was one of the first to get to his feet. His face registered no change in expression -- this was an old war state more than used to physical pain, but his gait bore the traces of a limp no matter now normally he tried to walk. It was most certainly not lost on Germany.

They brought up the rear with Prussia moving more slowly than usual and Germany was looking decidedly concerned as they walked side by side to the ballroom where their meal was being hosted. Finally, he could bear the silence no longer.

The contingent of nations suddenly found itself with two missing members.

Germany had grabbed a hold of Prussia and dragged him into the nearest private space he could find, an empty storage room piled high with boxes of some sort, Germany didn't care. He shut the door.

For a moment, they stood facing each other awkwardly. Then Germany hesitantly broke the silence.

"Does ... does it hurt?"

"Whaddaya think?"

"I'm sorry, I hadn't meant to --"

"... it's fine."

"I'll see if there's any medication available at the pharmacy after lunch."

"Said it's fine. I've survived far worse. We should go back before they come looking."

Prussia made to brush past Germany, but he was held back by an outstretched arm that blocked his path. "Wait, we need to talk about this."

"Now's not the time."

"No, I can't stand this any longer! You've been avoiding me all morning."

"Look who's talking!" Prussia shot him a glare. Then he softened his stance, sighed and leaned back against a rack, arms folded across his chest. "We were drunk. People do dumb things they regret when they're drunk. Hah, I wonder how many have used that line. Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal."

Germany narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, let's forget about this. Pretend it never happened. Standard protocol for things you don't wanna remember about the night before," Prussia said, looking at a point beyond Germany's shoulder.

Germany closed the gap between them, looming over his brother, incredulous. "Do you honestly think that's possible?"

"Some personal space, thank you," Prussia shoved back him in annoyance, not enjoying the feeling of being towered over. "Well then what the hell do you want me to do? You clearly regret fucking your brother and who would blame you for that, Mr Paragon of Virtue?"

"Who told you I regretted anything?!"

"You just said you hadn't meant to do it and you shunned me all morning like I'm something disgusting you shouldn't have touched. You weren't even there when I woke up. You're ashamed. Isn't pretending it never happened the agreement you're after?" Prussia stated a little too calmly for Germany's liking.

"No! Fine, I admit I panicked a little -- and the headache and mental fuzziness hadn't helped -- but not for the reasons you imagine!"

"Oh?" Prussia drawled and went back to folding his arms across his chest.

Germany tried to reach out, but stopped at the warning look he received and sighed. "I was afraid of your reaction. What if _you_ found it ... wrong? I don't think I can bear another wall between us."

"And running away first thing in the morning with your tail between your legs was totally gonna prevent me from cutting you off if I wanted to. Brilliant leap of logic there."

"I needed to clear my head. I know I could've handled it better --"

"You don't say."

"But the first order of business was to get us some painkillers," Germany said a touch defensively, because that wasn't the entire truth.

He had woken up to a mess. The sheets were ruined; his face burned to imagine what the chambermaids must think, and Prussia had looked positively debauched. His neck and torso was littered with red and purple bruises, especially stark against fair skin, and evidence of what they'd done had dried sticky on his belly and between his legs. Germany had felt himself ... rising to the occasion. There was a dull ache in his upper back too. A quick glance in the mirror revealed two long rows of scratch marks.

"Did you think those tablets magically appeared on your nightstand -- wait, weren't you still asleep when I got back?" 

Prussia shrugged. "Woke up a bit, went back to sleep. Woke up again and you were in the shower."

"Ah."

"And then you came out and gelled your hair and knotted your tie and made sure your suit was lint free and basically did everything but look at me."

Germany looked guilty. "We were running late. In fact we were almost late." It was also because he wasn't prepared to face the potential rejection yet.

"Sure. Way to blame your cowardice on the time."

"I don't see you trying to talk about it."

"Was I given the chance to?"

"You just tried to walk out on me."

"People _are_ gonna wonder where we are. How do you plan to explain our absence, Mr Germany?" Prussia challenged. "Or better yet, _why_ you were locked in a storeroom with your brother like some horny teenager?"

"And we really were out of time this morning --" Germany stopped and exhaled audibly. He was trying to fix things, not argue about who was more at fault. "Gilbert, I'm not disgusted, I'm not ashamed and I don't regret it. You didn't even let me finish my sentence earlier. I was going to say I hadn't meant to ah ... cause you that much discomfort ..." Germany trailed off, clearing his throat.

Prussia eyed him levelly, still guarded. "You're not weirded out?"

"Actually, no," Germany chanced a small smile. "We've been headed in this direction for a while now, whether or not we were conscious of it." It was a natural progression catalysed by whiskey as far as Germany was concerned. "And you?" he looked hopeful. "You're okay with this?"

Prussia slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and looked straight at Germany, blood red highlighting the weight of his gaze. "We're nations, West. We're the aggregate personifications of landmasses and people and ideas. We're not human. We're not born the same way, we don't age the same way, and we don't die the same way. Our relationships with each other have always been dependent on politics, a hot mess by human standards, so no, I don't consider myself answerable to their social norms. Those vary between cultures, throughout history, and can be inconsistent and fucked up anyway. 'Sides, what harm are _we_ gonna cause? There is no family unit to subvert, no parents to grieve, no genetically defective baby nations to give birth to, it's nobody's damned business but our own."

Germany's smile widened with every passing second of the speech. At the end of it, he boldly drew Prussia over to him, confident he would not be pushed away this time. "My sentiments exactly. You've given this some thought."

"Not really. I've just lived through shit. I'm eight centuries old. Compared to everything else, this is a non-issue," Prussia shrugged relaxing into Germany's hold.

"Good. Very good," Germany wrapped his arms around his precious bundle and held him close, enjoying the feeling of Prussia pressed against him and relieved to have his brother back again. "We've both been worried for nothing, it seems. I'm glad that's cleared up. But more than that, you should know you're so much more to me than just a brother. In fact, these days, you are quite literally my other half."

"That I am," Prussia flashed a lopsided grin Germany found all too endearing.

"We're practically conveniently married in nation terms anyway. What can be more romantic than that?"

Prussia brushed his nose against Germany's. "You are embarrassing."

"Can I kiss you now? I've been wanting to do it all morning."

"Nommmph!"

-

"Gilbert? Ludwig? Where the hell are you?"

"Alien abduction."

"Don't be an idiot."


End file.
